


sangre por sangre

by bluntforcedrauma (fundips)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Study, Hisoka's relationships with everyone basically lmao, I like humanizing people, Internal Monologue, Introspection, Other, Violence, Violent Thoughts, my kink is psychological monologue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fundips/pseuds/bluntforcedrauma
Summary: A seven-chapter series of one-shots exploring the psychology and traits of Hisoka that aren't all about bloodlust.





	1. flesh and blood

**Author's Note:**

> This series was made for one of my best friends Lilith. She adores Hisoka to death so I decided to construct a series of seven chapters involving her favorite character and the sides of him that aren't all that despicable. 
> 
> Hisoka is a creep, but it isn't all of him. No character in Togashi's Hunter x Hunter is one hundred percent bad or one hundred percent good.

If apathy were personified, Hisoka was sure that it would be Machi who embodied it - in outward appearance, at least. Although she was never one for needless cruelty, she carried dull eyes and a straight face as she worked with effortless and swift skill. She was never rough with her treatments as much as she scowled and complained and questioned his idiocy, which he mused was a bit harsh. Her disdain never upset him, in fact it was the opposite: he was quite content when she was mad, as it meant she held him at a certain significant level to have those feelings for.

He never liked it. Being discarded, that is. It felt as if a splinter was slowly being forced beneath his chest, through the skin, the sternum, and right through his beating heart. The thought of being nothing but a ghost angered him. Invisible. Insignificant. Small, unwanted, and unimportant. Once upon a time talking to others felt like a hassle, like he was listening to a tape or record that would never end. People were brilliant, he had acknowledged, but by simply opening their disgusting, putrid lips and ventilating sounds of fingernails on a chalkboard, they rambled about "fun" experiences or "hilarious" stories. It was more than enough to fill him with impatience and resentment. It often felt as if that small splinter was slowly penetrating between the cracks of his thin, fragile skin. It dug through cartilage and bone, painfully piercing the thing that beats and beats, what gives him animation and life.

Although Machi's irate feelings wouldn't drive her to join him for dinner or to spend the night, it at least meant that she knew him, recognized him, and acknowledged him. Mutual respect was something he often hadn’t felt from another person before, so he was bound to enjoy it while it lasted. He giddily awaited his next major injury as her aid was given somewhat reluctantly on those special occasions - _"only the promise of pay keeps me coming back to help"_ she asserts repeatedly - though Hisoka felt as if he was making progress. The thrill that crawled up his spine at the glares she gave could only be briefly rivaled by goosebumps that prickle his arms and neck when she draws out her thread and criticizes him in her own spiteful and uncaring way. It was odd to think Machi might even be worried when he was injured, though it could be a stretch.

He could smile to himself at the thought, admiring her wit, strength, and will.

"Hey."

Hisoka lifted his gaze at the sound of her voice. "Hm?"

"Nothing," she murmured with a soft huff. She fixed her eyes upon his wound and continued stitching without another word.

"You can't tease me like that Machi," Hisoka purred. She looked up to stare at him with a fathomless expression before looking away once more.

"What in the world are you thinking about? Not that I care, but you have such a disturbing smile on your face." Machi finished as the threads pulled tightly together, pulling his digits back to his hand with tendons and all. "Ah, well, more so than usual I mean."

"I suppose I can tell you the inner workings of my mind this once, if you're curious." He stretched his arm and curled his fingers inward towards his palm with an impressed grin. "Your skill leaves me awestruck once again. It's just lovely."

"Pay up."

He tossed her a full bag of Jenny, a bit flattered that she hadn't checked it if was the correct amount before stowing it away in her bag.

"I'll be off, then." She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and turned to leave.

"Already? Didn't you want to hear what I was thinking about?"

Machi grimaced. "On second thought, I think I'll pass." Hisoka guessed she thought it was bad enough he gave her so much extra work. She might conclude that twisted thoughts were turning up and over in his head to make him smile like that as his limbs were stitched back together.

"You."

Hisoka's nonchalant voice spoke up right as Machi began to turn the doorknob.

"What?"

"I was thinking of you."

"Ah, I see," she paused for a moment but didn't turn around. "Do me a favor and don't give me the details of the nature of those...thoughts." And with that, she was gone. 

Machi spoke little and he was never surprised by it, of course. Her specialty was something Hisoka adored: thin fingers, the slight flick of her wrists as the flashing of needle and thread flickered like fireworks or sparklers. She was quick and he almost wished she would move a bit slower. The speed in which she worked intoxicated him as well, however, as it was skillful and delicate. Her dexterity was honed possibly to the max and her attention to detail gave him chills. 

Hisoka’s gaze moved to his digits again, giving his fist another squeeze. 

Communication amongst the human species goes mostly under the radar. It isn't just body language either, although it's transparent to him when he is able to watch how someone physically reacts to his presence and words. Most of the meaning of a conversation was in the "junk talk," the throw-away phrases and extra words. That was how people would let each other know what is going on at individual, group, and species levels. 

It was absolutely honest; however, Hisoka was anything but candid. 

In songs, stories, art - just like in dreams, all those metaphors carry a meaning humans innately understand. He listens and hears everything from pain, struggle, and a search for love to pleasure, rage, and a quest for vengeance. Within himself, however, there are tangible substances of emotion that can be grasped, held, and cradled. It is simply a choice to let them be known to others in such a way that expresses truth and such "honesty," honesty he does not have. Therefore, his lips and tongue act as a filter for words that express what he wants and desires from another person: each languid concept is built to gain a reaction from his toys, just like his cards. Sentences are extensions of people and their motives, so in Hisoka's case there is nothing to be pulled and plucked at when his enemy searches for weakness. 

He doesn't talk. There's no need anymore, if there was ever one to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr is @godspeedcomplex or you can click [here](https://godspeedcomplex.tumblr.com/) to follow me or ask me any questions! I also post drabbles every now and then!


	2. elastic love

“Why this place?”

The young avenger hadn’t looked up while taking note of the new information Hisoka had told him, but it didn’t change the bluntness of his tone. The question caused a shadow of a smile to form across Hisoka’s lips.

“I thought you didn’t like idle chat, Kurapika.”

“I don’t, but this place is disturbing… Just like you, so is that why you wanted to meet up here?”

Kurapika had a point, Hisoka acknowledged. He had issues that disturbed others quite often but his decision to choose this park wasn’t an act of recognizing himself within its eerie jaws. That would be poetic though—but one thing he could notice about abandoned spaces was that there was a distinct and recognizable lack of time. The fog was heavier here than in most places, the landscape duller. There was no noise, no ticking clock, nothing to show that life existed. It was still and quiet, something Hisoka enjoyed at times.

The large abandoned Ferris wheel that had originally drawn his attention to the space when he’d stumbled across the theme park. It looked so powerfully fragile, as if the mere fact of breathing closely could have collapsed the mechanism. Another flimsy structure was a wooden roller coaster surrounded the entire isolated park, trapping any ghostly visitors into that infernal labyrinth. Everything was so gray, so colorless, so sulky it could’ve brought even the happiest soul to despair.

But then he saw a once-beautiful carousel was the epicentre of the park. Scraps of gold and red paint tried ineffectively to make their way through the rust and the horses stood eagerly awaiting for someone to ride them one last time. The first time Hisoka had seen it, he had carefully slipped into the saddle upon one of the tall, white horses. He decided, in the safety of solitude and silence, to let go of everything that had kept him pulled together for the past years. He had closed his eyes and he heard the melodic tune of the carousel, the brightly colored painted horses, moving rhythmically up and down. He remembered the joyful sound of the children’s laughs and, for one last time, he remembered a moment that could only be experienced in the the exact seat of broken innocence.

Twenty years ago this would be a scorching hot summer’s day: a perfect for a day at the theme park. The sky would have been dotted with few candy-floss clouds with the entrance of the park seen in the distance, visitors becoming increasingly excited and excessively impatient as they took a few steps forward every so often. Faint music would be heard from beyond the tall gates with the occasional happy scream suddenly piercing the air. Younger children would stand, eating their sweets and snacks. Ice creams would perilously wobble over cones and drip down small fingers as they melted; some munching on brightly colored, soft sugar strands that dissolved on the tongue—sweeter than sweet and sticking to the teeth better than glue.

Candy was Hisoka’s pleasure, and he always suspected that his mind would be similar to a candy store if it were its own space. There would be sugar covered fruit jellies, liquorice of all kinds, sour candies and fizzy cola bottles… but his favorite would be the gum so tasty its flavor would melt in his mouth and fill him with joy. Amusement parks frequently had this brand; in fact, upon remembering the whole ordeal, he thought he finally had Kurapika’s answer.

“As I think back, I believe I was here searching for any last bit of gum,” Hisoka finally spoke, drawing himself back to the present. “Have you heard of Bungee Gum?”

Kurapika looked a bit taken aback, but he was ready to play along with the conclusion. “No, I don’t think so. I thought they were discontinued.”

“Oh.” Discontinued? That didn’t sound right, he thought. The quality was superb but it was possible that the selling price was too low for the company to continue manufacturing it.

The boy’s eyes glanced up to Hisoka for a moment, acknowledging his expression. “You look sad. Did it really mean that much to you?”

Hisoka’s eyes narrowed. ‘Sad’ always sounded so childish, like something flimsy, something one should be able to cast off with a false smile or a simple compliment. “That’s ridiculous Kurapika,” he spoke smoothly. “Why would anyone be sad over candy?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, but you are strange like that,” he clicked his phone off after finishing the input of information. “I thought that you chose this place because you have been here before, or because it was somehow connected to your past. I suppose I was incorrect.”

 _That’s not it,_ Hisoka thought to himself. Behind the masked smile he wore, there was indeed sadness and shock. It was ironic actually, as the ease in which the his Bungee Gum was attached and detached to someone always mirrored the interest that he had in a person, which can be extremely deep yet still end at any moment. However, the same didn’t go for the gum itself. He began to recognize that his attachment to his childhood candy wasn’t just shallow and meaningless. He chuckled bitterly to himself, realizing that he seemed to care more for a brand of gum than most people he met.

 _That’s not it either,_ a voice in the back of his mind drawled. And it was right. Hisoka only registered now, as Kurapika was walking away, that he hadn’t even answered his question and the boy must have noticed. He’d subconsciously strayed from the inquiry avoided it. Why? He hadn’t even noticed it himself, at least not until it was too late.

He doesn’t think about the past—no, he doesn’t _talk_ about the past—but the reason was even a secret to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr is @godspeedcomplex or you can click [here](https://godspeedcomplex.tumblr.com/) to follow me or ask me any questions! I also post drabbles every now and then!


	3. guts and courage

Hisoka was never a fan of sports besides fighting, but this dodgeball match was possibly as pleasurable as one could be. It mimicked the same excitement that fueled his adrenaline when he would kill at Heaven’s Arena. Only within moments of the game he found his heart thudding hard in his chest, the ball breaking his fingers upon impact. Even using Bungee Gum to cushion its pressure had caused his digits to snap sickeningly in just the way he liked, and although nobody had heard him, he couldn’t help the small moan that escaped his lips from the burning sensation. 

Although Gon was mostly benign in his efforts to interact with Hisoka during the game, it was Killua of all people to give him that look—yes,  _ that look _ —whenever he spoke or did anything in particular. He was protective, like a vicious dog guarding its owner and he sensed something off about Hisoka from the start. Although the same could be argued for most people who Hisoka interacted with, Killua was different because they were one in the same. They were both killers, murderous and depraved, except Killua was still young and naive in a way that was both alluring and borderline depressing. Hisoka was fully aware of Illumi’s affections and how it affected Killua during the Hunter Exam’s resolution, and although he couldn’t bring himself to care about the boy like he did Gon, it was still fascinating to watch. 

He would love to fight Killua, to kill him and watch his body writhe as he crushed his skull beneath his feet, but it could possibly ruin his relationship with Illumi and any exchanges he could have with the assassin in the future. It would also lure Illumi into fighting him, which was mouth-watering in theory but alas it would be far more beneficial to take his time and wait until Killua had reached a level that could prove to be most pleasurable to tear him down from. 

_ Gon _ , on the other hand, was a far different story. All alone in a world so dark, where the people were cruel and karma didn’t exist, he seemed to genuinely believe that he was supported by friendship and his great thirst for adventure. Upon first meeting him, Hisoka realized they had mutual similarities despite being so different. Gon had two eyes, a mouth, a nose. Gon had two arms and two legs like him. If Hisoka cut Gon and himself, they would both bleed red. 

Gon was simple but so overridden by his emotions and love for people and things, Hisoka could predict that it would break Gon and he would ultimately fall into a pit of grief and mourning. Gon was primitive but had much to discover. His dreams and most important aspirations and challenges drove him to commit ridiculous and insane acts, but it coaxed such drive and power it was admirable and arousing. Grasping the idea that life exists for exploration and infinity was an amazing feat and Hisoka was sure that Gon would grow and develop into something that would leave him awestruck. 

Just watching him now develop his ability that was akin to a very strong punch was interesting in its own regard. He once proposed to Gon that they could become quite intimate due to their opposing natures. Gon was honest and pure and seemed to represent everything positive and good about people, while Hisoka was dishonest and conceited and found himself embodying all of the qualities humans wished to rid themselves of. It was fascinating to him that Gon’s best friend was a Transmuter, just like Hisoka, and just as lawless. Their relationship was captivating on its own. Not just to Hisoka but to everyone around them, including Bisky. It was a shame that Illumi would drive them apart since they spurred each others’ growth, unknowingly ripening each other for Hisoka’s personal gain in the future. 

Hisoka could almost laugh when he found his gaze drifting to Razor’s contorted expression upon realizing Gon’s true strength, his  _ full _ strength. 

_ He’s a monster,  _ Hisoka was absolutely sure they thought in unison. It was the look of someone who had just witnessed something powerful and terrifying. Hisoka on the other hand, couldn’t help but lick his lips in satisfaction. 

Gon’s aura focused around his fists again, using Ko as he prepared himself to release a new blast of intense aura. Jajanken was a simple Hatsu but extremely powerful: close-ranged and extremely effective due to Gon’s natural affinity as an enhancer. He amplified his aura’s magnitude far past what should be possible for someone of his age, the buildup causing such tremendous force that Hisoka could feel warmth upon his face and began to notice the paint slowly peeling off the walls. 

_ Terrifying, _ Hisoka purred under his breath. As the ball shot from Killua’s hands due to the power of Gon’s punch, it split the air with such a sound that Hisoka’s ears could pick up its high frequency. 

His gaze fixed on Razor again as all of his aura suddenly concentrated on his hands and arms, crouching down to receive the ball. It caused Hisoka’s heart to skip with giddiness, blood pounding so furiously in his veins he could hardly think. Gon was making a Nen master like Razor strain himself through sheer talent and natural ability alone. 

He was indeed awestruck. 

Just as expected, Razor received, his heels screeching and wearing down its soles as the force of Gon’s aura pushed him back,  _ far back _ , and Hisoka almost thought for a minute that he would strike out. 

Suddenly his stomach dropped to the floor as Razor successfully blasted the ball with further aura, sending it shooting in Gon’s direction. 

It was going to kill him. Gon couldn’t block something like that. 

Killua let out a sound of surprise, still reeling from the force of Gon’s aura, and Hisoka could see a genuine flash of fear in his eyes. How interesting it was that him and Killua shared feelings for Gon in completely different manners. 

But suddenly and unexpectedly, Gon fell forward and hit the floor before the ball could even hit him. Had he dodged? No, that was unlike him. Hisoka quickly gathered that Gon’s body was so limp he had definitely gone unconscious from the exertion. The aura drained him of all possible energy, including the necessary amount to stay functioning. 

Hisoka pulled Bungee Gum from his aura, letting it coat his hands as he found himself within the ball’s line of fire. “Not quite yet,” he announced mockingly, suggestively, somewhat jokingly. “He desired total victory. Right, Gon?” Hisoka’s seemingly jovial, harmless, cocky grin morphed itself into a disturbing smirk as the ball caught itself in his aura and stretched, further than possible (it would have been impossible actually, if Bungee Gum hadn’t contained the properties of both rubber and gum). 

The ball’s aura, the strain, the energy was intense. His snapped fingers were screaming with pain from the pressure—Machi would have definitely called him a  _ lunatic _ —but it was far too late to take back his words (and nor did he want to). The ball launched itself back towards Razor with such force, Hisoka’s wrists had popped several times, over and over just to send the ball flying. The experience was enthralling, riveting,  _ orgasmic _ .

Razor’s smile was naive and bitter. Hisoka knew the extent of the power the ball had, its force phenomenally heavy and strong. He wasn’t surprised when the ball pushed Razor back as he attempted to receive again, his expression suddenly altering from the realization of its power. It was sweet to watch as his hopes fell and his screeching heels were forced back, and he was finally classified as “out.” Razor’s smile had completely faded as the ball rolled off, bouncing as it fell. 

Gon was stirring but Hisoka hadn’t noticed it until he heard his voice. 

“Huh? What happened at the end?” the boy was pulling himself up, not quite able to stand yet, but steady enough to sit back. He was smiling despite the fact that he just passed out. His endless optimism was astounding. Still, despite his dizziness, he came to the conclusion relatively quickly. “Oh, so Hisoka finished the job.” 

“In the end, he stole all the glory,” Killua joked, looking up at him. For once he didn’t seemed threatened by Hisoka. Perhaps it was because he helped Gon and Killua was thankful, just not enough to express it in any other way. 

“It was only possible with all your help. Call this a victory for the team,” Hisoka spoke smoothly, smiling lips oozing a saccharine tone.

“That doesn't sound like you at all…” Gon furrowed his brows in confusion. Hisoka’s smile faded at that, and Killua chuckled playfully. 

_ Oh but it is, _ Hisoka thought.  _ I don’t dwell on the past, as I have no interest in it. I only care about the future and what Gon will become. A victory for Gon is a victory for me. Any effort to help him grow stronger aids in my goal and any pleasure that derives from it. That is all I care about, and that is all I am. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr is @godspeedcomplex or you can click [here](https://godspeedcomplex.tumblr.com/) to follow me or ask me any questions! I also post drabbles every now and then!


End file.
